The story with no title
by Dark K. Sly
Summary: He doesn't look for her – he's not actually insane, no matter what people who know him might say. He knows his time is ending – he's done too much, seen too much, messed too much with the universe as it is, but he'd never, ever go looking for her.


He doesn't look for her – he's not _actually_ insane, no matter what people who know him might say. He knows his time is ending – he's done too much, seen too much, messed too much with the universe as it is, but he'd never, _ever_ go looking for her.

Sure, the whole universe might just explode from doing it, but that's never stopped him before. What did stop him was the mere idea of _seeing_ her, there, with _him_ ; the _he_ who isn't _himself_ , but only a part of a him that's long gone now. So when Clara does something weird (again) and they have to refuel in Cardiff, and the rift takes them _there_ , there with the zeppelins and the world where Pete and Jackie are happily married and have a kid, and where Rose is… with him, he refuses to even try and get out of the TARDIS until they've fixed her problem and they can leave.

She had her happy ending, right? That's all that matters.

But then there's a small, urgent knock on the door, and Clara opens it, because of _course_ she does, and there, right in front of him, is a blond little girl with fine, fine hair, thin as a twig, little red converse on her feet.

She can't be any older than seven years old, little red cheeks puffing out air as she looks behind her and then around.

"Wow, it's just like daddy told me it'd be" she tells them, and he can't.

He _can't_.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Clara asks the little girl and she kind of nods, bouncing a bit on the soles of her feet.

"I think so? Mommy told me to run, and daddy agreed, but they are still there, and I was supposed to go and hide, but then I saw the box, and daddy told me he _had_ a box just like this one once. In another life."

He actually stops wondering around for a second and really _listens_ to her right there and then.

Because she's seven years old.

 _She's seven years old_ and he'd never, _ever_ , forget that smile. That's… that's _her_ smile.

And she's _seven_. Not five. Or four. Or any number smaller than that that could be used as a justification of her conception with… with _him_ as a father, because…

Because she's seven.

 _"_ _There's five of us now. Mum, Dad, Mickey and the baby."_

The panic and the fear and the realization that… he'd have to go _back_. Go back there, and tear the whole _universe_ apart, no matter what, because he had to _stay_.

If she… he'd _have to stay_.

Forever.

And he would, gladly.

 _"_ _You're not?"_

The desperation in his eyes and the way she smiled a bit, twisting her sleeves, drying up tears on her face, and the way her whole expression softens, sadness melting away.

 _"_ _No. It's mum. She's three months gone. More Tylers on the way."_

She explained, knowing he'd stay. Knowing he'd never give her up – not with _that_.

He looked relieved than, believing his own lies and hers – who taught her how to lie that well, anyway, if not him?

And now, right here, wearing red converse and a purple jacket, painfully thin and energetic is…

He can't say it. He can't even _think it_.

Clara stares at him for a long moment, looking worried, and then looks back at the child.

"What's your name, dear?"

"Victoria" he lets out a laugh at that, but the little girl ignores him, "Mummy knew a Queen with my name."

Clara smiles softly at her, and he can only stare.

Stare at everything he has now, everything he's done.

Gallifrey falls no more. The silence has fallen. His life in his own universe is meaningful, he's _helping_ people, he helped _his people_ , even after he killed all of them _twice_.

Swallowing hard, he starts taking a step towards her when the door of the TARDIS bursts open and he walks in.

He's not wearing a pinstripe suit anymore – he wears a grey hoodie and jeans, and on his feet, a converse the same colour as his daughter's.

 _Their_ daughter's, he supposes.

He looks around, shocked and curious, and so damn _happy_ , and he wants to kick him out of here, once and for all.

"Weeeeeeell, now this I was not expecting" he says, just as she comes through the door too.

Rose Tyler, the Bad Wolf.

She's just as beautiful as the day he left her here with _him_ , hair a little longer, maybe, a little bit thinner, but all in all, still Rose.

His Rose.

She stares for a second until Victoria runs towards her and she picks up her daughter, still looking around, smiling a bit when she sees Clara. Frowning when she sees him.

"You changed again" she tells him softly, and _he_ walks towards her, standing behind his _wife and daughter_ , glaring at him.

How _dare_ he?

"Not much choice when the time comes" he tells her, shrugging.

She nods, because she _knows_.

She's the one to be with him, after all, when he changed from one thing to the next in so many ways.

"Thanks. For helping her" her voice is soft, and he can see it in her eyes that she knows he knows now.

He nods as an answer, trying to find his voice.

"Is she…?"

She shakes her head a bit.

"Only one heart" she tells him, and he nods again, looking down, "She does have a knack for finding trouble, though" her smile is soft again, and he nods, lips tight in a line he can't quite undo.

"We should go. The coast is clear now" he says, and Rose turns to stare at him, nodding.

She looks at him and he feels as if he has a _universe_ of things to tell her, and yet he can't say anything at all.

They stare for a moment longer and the couple turns to leave.

"You could come with us" he suggests when they are already at the door, rushed and afraid, and knowing the answer, but still wanting to cling to his last sliver of hope.

She stares at him, smiling sadly, and then kisses the top of her – _his_ – daughter's head.

"We can't" she tells him simply, looking at him, smiling more calmly now, "It's time we've all stopped running, don't you agree, Doctor?"

Their eyes meet again and he nods, watching them leave.

As soon as the door closes, the TARDIS roars back to life, probably leaving some damage behind, that he'll have to come back and fix at some point.

Clara asks and asks, but he doesn't answer – he can't.

Not right now.

Maybe it is time he stopped running.

Maybe it's time he started hunting instead.


End file.
